Operation Leap of Faith

Chapter 14

Present day - Italy

Hospitals were always the same, in every corner of the world. Walls painted in ugly and unwelcoming colours, the waiting rooms too crowded and yet too silent at the same time. There was this awkwardness, a strange tension in the air, as people waited for good news. Some would never get them, and Glaz was terrified that would be their case.

The car ride to the hospital was a blur in Glaz's memory. He knew the Italian guy, Maestro, was the one driving, and Thatcher had been there too. However, all he could remember was sitting on the backseat, holding an unconscious Kapkan and actually praying for the first time in years. Glaz wasn't sure he believed in God, but in that moment, with the hunter's blood all over his jacket, he fervently asked God or whoever was listening to please not let Kapkan die. There wasn't any evidence that his prayers had been heard, but no confirmation of the worst either.

Both Kapkan and Thatcher had been rushed away immediately, leaving Glaz and Maestro to sit in uncomfortable silence while they were waiting. Well, Maestro had tried to fill the silence, but Glaz didn't feel like humoring his attempts at a conversation. A nurse stayed with them, asking all manner of questions about what happened, and Glaz let Maestro do the talking. After all, he didn't know a lick of Italian, so he couldn't have answered even if he wanted to. Noticing the wide-eyed looks he was garnering, both from the nurse and other people, Glaz realised he was still wearing the bloodied jacket. He felt somewhat better after taking it off, but then he had the problem he didn't know what to do with it. In the end he just chucked it in the nearest trash bin. He had liked that jacket, but he couldn't keep it. Even if he took it to get cleaned, he would look at it and always remember the helplessness of feeling Kapkan's blood seeping through his fingers. It was a horrible feeling, one of total hopelessness, and Glaz was sure he wouldn't forget that sensation of despair for as long as he lived.

He left Maestro talking with the nurse and went to the bathroom, to scrub his hands clean. It was thankfully empty, and Glaz furiously lathered his hand with soap, watching how the dried blood gave a pink tint to the resulting bubbles. He kept scrubbing, stopping only when his skin stung from the abuse, then left his hands under the stream of cold water until they felt numb. His fingers barely responded as he turned off the faucet then dried his hands with a paper towel. It ached, in a dull and prickly way, but that feeling helped him get centered again instead of getting carried away by awful what-ifs. It was time to keep his head cool, not to give into a blind panic. Glaz came out feeling more like himself, ready to endure the nerve-wracking wait until someone informed them about Kapkan's state.

Soon after he sat back next to Maestro, Thatcher returned too, still limping and chased by a nurse who kept yelling at him.

"I need you to act as a translator," Thatcher told Maestro, gesturing to the nurse with a scowl.

From what Glaz understood, the doctors weren't too happy about Thatcher's decision to forego an overnight stay. Still, the old man was stubborn and there was no way to convince him to change his mind, so they brought him the necessary documents to sign his early discharge. Privately, Glaz agreed with Thatcher. It was a well-known fact none of the Spetsnaz liked to set foot in Doc's office.

It was awkward to sit next to Thatcher at the moment, the glaring white of the bandages around his thigh an uncomfortable reminder of what Glaz had done. He single-handedly managed to injure and send two of the best Rainbow operators to hospital, not to mention that poor SWAT member he killed. Shrike was right, he would have been a better terrorist than other from her merry band of misfits. It was sickening and darkly hilarious at the same time.

He rubbed his right eye as he considered this unsettling revelation and caught Thatcher side-eying him. Perhaps Glaz should apologise for shooting him.